And We’re Home

We are home.  Thank you for not stealing the TV.

The Hat Crew.

Is there any doubt Colin is taller than I? No. No, there is not.

A good time was had by all.  True, D and I had a couple of incidents where one of us was pulled firmly back to the hotel room for a “talking to.”  Might have been him.  Might just as easily have been me.

Here is our room in Chicago.  I documented the chaos.  I’m guessing this was once two rooms made into one.  You would have thought we’d have plenty of space, but we certainly used most of it.

Decorative pillows everywhere.

Decorative pillows everywhere.

We stayed at the Palmer Hilton downtown, which is a beautiful, historic hotel. We had a good rate and a family package which included breakfast, but to be honest we were the only family we saw for the portion of week we were there.  The boys were concerned.  When we dragged ourselves into the lobby at 10pm on a Friday night, Colin whispered to me, “Are you sure it’s okay for kids to be here?”

It was a question.  There were no other kids to be seen.  There were no other mommies in shorts to be seen.  There were just Chicago people having cocktails in business clothes on a Friday night in an historic hotel.

I assured Colin (and maybe myself) that it was just fine.  And it was.  The hotel staff was very kind.  The boys got used to the idea that there was only a “grown-up pool” and kept themselves busy watching movies together . . . which was a first ever.

We went to all the museums.  We ate pizza, pizza and more pizza.  We rode the train — not the L, the Metra — which was a highlight for all.  Everyone was very nice, including the Chicago Art Institute security guard in the modern art wing who had to chase D off a sculpture that looked like a bench.  I double checked it.  You had to pay attention to the notice in the floor that said, “Do not touch.”  I would have sat on it myself.


One of many pizza stops. There were so many more.

After two days at a water park pit stop in the Wisconsin Dells we are home.  Now we are waiting for school to start.  It is eerily quiet outside.  It’s as if the neighborhood kids are afraid to come out for fear the bus will come to pick them up while they take one more ride on their bikes around the block.


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